Give Us A Kiss Before You Go
by adlyb
Summary: Goodbye kisses are seldom sweetest. Klaus and Elena share a moment in 2x21.


**Give Us A Kiss Before You Go**

by adlyb

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except these words.  
>Summary: Goodbye kisses are seldom sweetest. Klaus and Elena share a moment in 2x21.<br>Spoilers: Everything through season 2.  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Word Count: 1471  
>Warnings: Character death… sort of.<p>

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><p>Somewhere between the teary goodbye kiss Elena presses on Stefan's slack mouth and the chaste goodbye kiss she brushes against Damon's lips not 48 hours later, there is Klaus.<p>

Before he appears like a wraith in the Salvatores' front yard, she had never laid eyes upon him before.

It doesn't matter.

She suspects she would know him anywhere.

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><p>"Are you ready, my dear?" The words roll like smooth, round stones from his tongue as he proffers her his hand.<p>

Once she has exchanged her final _I love yous_ with Stefan, there is nothing left to do but to approach this beautiful nightmare and slip her fingers into his waiting grasp.

She expects his hand to be chill, the way Stefan's is, and feels surprise stir through her when their palms meet in a wall of moist, heated flesh and his fingers curl hot around her own.

Elena meets his eyes and something predatory flickers across his features. She remembers then—the human blood keeping his heart beating, firing his blood. Yet there is something more to it, almost like he wants—

Elena diverts her eyes.

He begins to pull her against him.

Sensing that they are about to leave, she turns to look over her shoulder, to see Stefan one last time. She catches the barest impression of him in the yellow lamplight, eyes trustingly closed and cheeks moist, before Klaus whisks her away.

That's it then. That's the last time she'll ever see Stefan in this lifetime. Whether she takes that image to her grave or rises as a vampire, that's the image of him she'll have to cling to when Klaus takes her life.

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><p>Klaus travels at a sickening pace, so fast Elena fears (<em>hopes<em>) her neck will break from the crush of wind against her face.

He lurches to a stop.

Her stomach rocks against her ribs and she must clench her teeth to suppress the urge to vomit. She must not be weak.

The night is impossibly dark. Insects chirp in the near distance and the wind rustles through dead leaves.

From the dewy taste of the air, Elena imagines that they are in the woods on the outskirts of town.

Wickery Bridge is just a heartbeat away.

"Are you very afraid, Elena?"

The voice drifts disembodied on the wind.

She spins, but cannot see a thing.

A low chuckle erupts behind her right shoulder, and this time, inhumanely strong hands catch her when she twists towards the sound.

"Well, my doppelganger? What say you? Are you afraid?"

She considers.

Soon, the man leaning into her close enough for him to sip her exhalations will kill her. He'd been planning her death for most of his existence. It seems as though he feels no traces of human emotion, least of all mercy.

For those reasons, yes, she is scared. She would be insane (_far, far more insane than any of her recent actions have indicated her to be_) if she answered in the negative.

And yet… When people reach the end of their lives, do they not search for meaning? Hadn't she already found hers by sacrificing herself in order to save her loved ones? And love—hadn't she had a lot of it? Her parents and Jeremy and Jenna and Bonnie and Caroline and Matt and Stefan and Damon and even John—they had all loved her.

Besides. This is her fate. She is the doppelganger, born to die, and about to die. _As it has always meant to be_.

Elena peers into the dark, into what she estimates are probably Klaus's eyes. Perhaps it is her imagination, but she thinks she can see the hard glint of his irises when she speaks. "I'm not afraid. Not anymore."

He leans in until his lips are resting on her pulse point. When he smiles into her neck, she can feel his teeth scrape her flesh.

Elena holds absolutely still, waiting him out.

When she breathes, drawing in shallow pants of air, she inhales the scent of him. She refuses to name the sensation that burns through her as she tries to identify what he smells like.

Finally, he pulls back.

"You're lying, Elena." He rubs his thumb over her racing pulse. "I can practically taste your fear."

She shakes her head. "No, you're wrong."

"The body doesn't lie, Elena," he chides.

Something in his tone alerts her—he is growing bored and she suspects that bodes very poorly for her.

All too suddenly, she becomes aware of his mouth, working its way along her jawline toward her mouth. His other hand toys with the hem of her shirt, pushing it up and mapping the bare skin he exposes to the night chill.

He's stopped looking at her as an individual and has begun toying with her like she's an object. The doppelganger and no more.

If she has to die, Elena at least wants to die as more than a plaything.

"I'm not stupid," she blurts as his mouth hovers a millimeter from her lips.

He pulls back a little, and she senses that this is her chance to reclaim her identity as _Elena_.

"Of course I feel fear—You're here to kill me." She pauses to gather her thoughts. "But more than that—I've accepted this. I'm protecting everyone I love this way. So no, when I think of them, I'm not afraid at all."

"How do you know you've volunteered for such a noble sacrifice? Who's to say I won't slaughter those bothersome Salvatore brothers just for the joy of it?"

She deliberates, and hopes she is ultimately right. "Because you would have already. You said it yourself—There's no reason for anyone else to get hurt. And Originals keep their word."

"Oh, we do?" He laughs, and the sound raises the hairs on the back of her neck. "I never much liked the rules." He presses his fingers into the flesh of her hip as if to emphasize his words. "For instance—who's to say I shan't have a little celebratory slaughter when I break the curse?"

His other hand, she realizes, is still circling her neck like a collar. He's too close, and too warm, and too familiar, like a dread dream remembered.

Carefully, Elena lays a hand over the one clamped around her jugular. "You'll have everything, Klaus. Everything you've always wanted. What would be the point in hurting the Salvatores?"

He doesn't answer her.

Seconds tick by, and still nothing but the steady weight of his stare.

A flame flickers to life in the distance. The faint orange light illuminates Klaus's face just enough for Elena to see the longing flicker behind his eyes before it disappears behind the cruel curve of his lips.

He looks away, over her shoulders. "Greta's arrived. You'll wait with her, until it's time."

Klaus gathers her close against him as he speeds towards the bright clearing.

The journey takes seconds, at most, but for Elena, those seconds pull into a distended web of eternity as she puzzles over the way her captor had looked at her.

She examines Klaus again when he sets her down. She notices anew the gentleness of his touch when he brushes her hair behind her ears, the possessive tone of his voice when he tells her, "I'll return for you soon, my dear."

And then he is gone, and there is only Greta, and a few minutes later, Jenna's body lying lonely on the forest floor.

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><p>Klaus is as good as his word. He <em>does <em>return for her—along with dear, sweet Stefan, whose anguish she must now take to her grave instead of his tears.

When he touches her, she feels revulsion swim deep in her gut for her aunt's murderer. It doesn't matter that he'll kill her too.

_There's no crime in playing the parts they are assigned_.

And then he pulls her eyes to his, and she sees the same unguarded longing she sensed in him earlier.

"Thank you, Elena," he murmurs as his eyes bore into her, consuming her.

_You'll have everything, Klaus. Everything you've always wanted._

It would seem not so, after all.

"Got to Hell," she spits, because she cannot endure the intensity he directs at her while Jenna stares at her, eyes bright like glazed marbles.

She cannot bear it knowing he will kill her anyway.

He pulls her roughly against him in a lover's embrace as he lowers his mouth to her neck.

Elena can see nothing but the white fire in front of her, feel nothing but the burning desire that ignites her blood as he moves against her, holding her flush against him.

In her final moments, he possesses her completely.

The last thought that eases across her mind before she dies is the simple realization, _this is his goodbye kiss_.

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><p>AN: This is my first tvd fic- if you liked it/have any constructive criticism/questions, please send me a review! I have a few ideas for more and want to know what y'all think.


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